


Some Parts

by bubblebucky



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Avengers Family, M/M, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, bucky isn't the winter soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 15:10:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6244678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblebucky/pseuds/bubblebucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The elevator opens, and Steve is prepared for anyone to step out. Anyone except Bucky Barnes, who is supposed to be in a ravine somewhere in Europe. Maybe the Avengers didn't think their plan through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Parts

**Author's Note:**

> Unedited! Sorry!

He had been eating an apple.

The crisp crunching sound it made when he dug his teeth into it was in time with the ding of the elevator, and Steve was content and calm and unsuspecting when he turned to face whoever was entering.

'Late night?' He was prepared to ask Tony, who would be coming up from his lab with tousled hair and deep shadows under his eyes. Howard's son would probably make some comment about Steve's sex life--or lack of one, anyway--and Steve would grin and hand him the mug of coffee that he'd had ready and waiting since six o'clock that morning. Tony would sip it and make a face, probably make an insensitive joke about how he didn't know how to use coffeemakers in the future, and Steve would laugh and call him a jerk before he could think.

'Apple?' He'd offer Bruce, if the scientist was finally coming down from his room. The man made a point to always be down for breakfast by eight, to stay balanced and healthy (and in control of the Other Guy, but no one mentioned that, much, least of all Steve). He would give Steve a sort of wan half-smile and take the apple, but set it to the side as he ate the toast and orange juice that Steve had already prepared for him, and the blond would silently stare at the doctor until Bruce noticed and kindly told him to stop worrying. Steve would bite off the response that always came up and instead apologize, ducking his head.

'I recorded _Cutthroat Kitchen_ ,' He'd say to Natasha if it was her coming from that elevator, giving her a gentle smile and handing her a mug of hot chocolate, because she was on a mission last night and she returned late and haunted. Steve knew she wasn't one to be coddled, but he also knew that she needed a break every once and a while. She would take the mug with a scowl that hid her gratitude and grudgingly slouch into the living room just a few feet away, and the noises of Alton Brown enthusiastically condemning chefs to their doom would fill the space. Sometime later he would join her on the couch wordlessly, and if it had been a really hard mission she would move closer to him and weave a hand in his blond hair and for a moment Steve would swear that the hand scratching his scalp leisurely was bigger and rougher than it really was.

'There's chocolate milk in the fridge,' Steve would tell Clint. He wouldn't pour it for him, because the assassin had way too many trust issues for that (they all did, but they also had enough carelessness to let it slide when they were relaxed and comfortable). Clint's sweet tooth would lead him eagerly to the fridge and he'd pour himself the tallest glass of the over-sweet concoction he could find, which was saying something because Tony was nothing if not over-the-top and he had at least two quart-sized cups laying around somewhere in his cupboards for Clint to find. When he found an oversized glass with half a swallow of chocolate milk in it, later, he'd sigh with exasperation he didn't really feel and try to ignore the familiarity of picking up after a man he cared for.

'Good morning,' Steve would murmur to Thor, as both a greeting and a reminder to keep the volume of his voice down because the demigod was nothing if not enthusiastic at all hours of the day. Thor's responding grin would make Steve's own widen in response, and as he handed Thor a box of pop tarts, he'd get a fond slap on the back and maybe--maybe--Thor would ruffle his hair, and it'd strike something raw and painful in Steve's chest, but he'd keep smiling all the same.

His mouth was open. The pre-conceived greetings he had prepared swooped out of his mind like a newspaper tumbling down a windy street, and Steve was left gaping, a half chewed bite of apple in his mouth, a thunk as the rest of the fruit dropped from his hand and rolled under the kitchen table.

Bucky hadn't aged a day.

"Steve?" Bucky's voice was the same, too, smooth and familiar and high with emotion. Those lips--they were curved into a smirk, but his eyebrows were furrowed with worry and creased over those warm eyes he never thought he'd see again. "Stevie, you good?"

It was like seeing a ghost, Steve thought, arms trembling as he stumbled back, his hips hitting the edge of a counter as he did so. Bucky stepped forward, his smirk gone and an arm reaching forward, but Steve was careening away, backing himself into a corner.

"You're dead," He finally said. Steve's voice was sharp with anger that stemmed from emotion. "You're--Bucky is _dead_."

"No, Steve," That imposter, that blasphemer, he stepped closer, his face twisted into some imitation of Bucky's pained expression. "God, no, I'm alive. I'm right here."

Everything about him was shaking, but especially his head as he threw it back and forth with his eyes clenched shut and--"Stop it! Shut up! Is this some joke, Stark? Because fuck you!"

His heart was beating loud in his ears and it felt like the floor was dropping away. Somewhere in the distance he could hear the roar of wind and _please, Steve, we can work this out_ , but mostly it was Bucky's voice calling loud and panicked, "Jesus Christ, Steve. Someone--Agent Romanov, I don't know what to do. I don't--He won't let me touch him."

And he could hear his teammates. The sarcastic drawl of Tony Stark was sharpened to something that may resemble concern, Natasha's beautiful, lethal lilt all barbed with questions that Bucky had no hope of answering, and even Bruce, ever calm and steady, had a note of alarm in his voice as he said, "I told you that we shouldn't have sprung it on him like this."

"How was I supposed to know that Spangles here has a heart to match his age?" Tony snapped back.

"Shut up! Someone just--God, help him!" Bucky's voice cracked as his Brooklyn accent cut over the rest. "Steve, you fuckin' punk, calm down."

Something deep and raw and instinctual, buried under a ton of ice and metal, maybe somewhere in the bottom of a ravine in Germany, woke up at that, and Steve, suddenly aware that he was gasping on the floor of Tony Stark's kitchen, croaked, "Jerk."

His teammates stopped arguing. Steve didn't open his eyes, but he said, "Sorry, guys. I'm okay. I just--I wasn't expecting that."

"Geez--It's okay, Cap. It was stupid of us just to spring him on you," Clint said sheepishly.

"So, he's--Bucky?"

The man in question have no response, so Bruce cut in with his gentle voice, "They found him in a German ravine a month ago. S.H.I.E.L.D. says that a weaker version of your serum kept him preserved in the ice, sort of like you. We didn't want to tell you, in case..."

"...yeah, I got it," Now that his heart had slowed, the magnitude of what was happening really started to dawn on Steve. _Bucky_. He could be alive. He could be standing right in front of him, smug smile and fond eyes shining at Steve.

Or he could still be dead in a ravine, and Steve could see his bedroom ceiling. He was afraid to open his eyes.

"Are you well, Captain?" Thor asked sincerely.

"Yeah, I just," Steve was sure he looked like an idiot, sitting on the ground with his eyes shut tight, "Need a second. Could I--could you guys go?"

"Me too?" Bucky's voice cut straight into Steve's chest, and he's afraid he answered way too quickly.

"No, Buck, not again, please."

There was a beat of silence where everyone took in what Steve said, and the supersoldier's cheeks felt hot as they surely flushed pink. Still, his teammates exited in a sort of hopeful silence, with just a single, reassure from Natasha that, "We'll just be in the next room."

Then, it was just Steve and Bucky.

"They said you crashed a plane into the ocean," Bucky started. Steve winced; he could hear the poorly concealed anger. "And that you did it three days after I fell."

Steve didn't respond--couldn't, maybe--but he flinched as he heard Bucky walk closer.

"Three days, Steve! You couldn't take care of yourself for three days!"

"I'm sorry."

"Damn right, you're fuckin' sorry! And then, soon as you wake up, you're fighting aliens? What the hell? You're a moron!"

"Bucky, I'm sorry."

"What about Peggy, huh? She was one hell of a dame, and you just gave her up. You've got some nerve, Rogers, tellin' me to be safe and stay alive. Did you do it for the thrill? You always were a masochistic little punk--"

"You were gone, Bucky!" Steve's eyes sprang open with his shout, and he was almost shocked to see that it wasn't just a dream, that James Buchanan Barnes was standing in front of him with the same, worried to hell frustration painted across his face. Steve felt like crying. Bucky looked like he was halfway to tears, too, and when Steve continued, it was much softer. "You were gone, and it felt like the world had gone with you."

Bucky was struck silent for a few heartbeats as they stared at each other. Then, like he was approaching a startled animal, he slowly lowered himself to the ground next to Steve.

"You know, this whole future thing, it sorta sucks, huh?" He said. Steve snorted, ducking his head as he tried to hold in the tears that threatened to make an appearance.

"It was a whole lot worse an hour ago, pal."

"Yeah, well," Bucky gently set a hand on Steve's face, and guided it up. A calloused thumb, still rough from handling guns and knives like only yesterday they'd fought in a war, wiped at the tears that had started to run down Steve's face. "There're some parts that I could get used to."

Bucky's mouth still tasted like gunpowder and army rations and home, even if it was buried beneath some minty 21st-century toothpaste. The kiss was more gentle than the ones the men shared at war, but it was a welcome change. There had been enough fighting and grief. All Steve wanted now was Bucky.

"You're still a goddamned punk, you know," Bucky murmured once they pulled away for a breath.

"And you're a stupid jerk," Steve shot back, and he buried his face in Bucky's chest. "Don't leave again, Buck."

"Nah. I said 'til the end of the line, didn't I? Looks like you're stuck with me."

They sat there, wrapped in each other's embrace and more than a little teary eyed, for a few minutes, completely oblivious to the rest of the world around them.

"I can't believe Captain America is gay," Tony hissed.

Natasha raised her eyebrows. "Have you _read_ the wall at the Smithsonian?"


End file.
